In Which Hermione Dies
by Tiny Q
Summary: In which Ginny is normal (but a little unhinged), Draco’s a sweetie (but not really), Ron’s a prat (as usual), Harry’s angry (though he’ll tell you otherwise) and Hermione dies (as the title says).
1. The Traitor

Title: In Which Hermione Dies

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N: Yes, I am crazy.  Yet _another_ story.  I've lost it.  Well, this was initially supposed to be a one shot from Ginny's pov.  But I just couldn't resist in adding Draco's thoughts in here as well and now it is as it is.  Draco might seem a mite OOC, but the story takes place after his character is developed past the canon.  If that makes sense.  If not, just pretend that I took about ten chapters getting Draco and Ginny to fall in love.  :D  Anyhoo, hope you find some enjoyment in this.

Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  Nothing I say.  But if I owned some sort of figure of Hermione I would do evil things to it for my hate for her is becoming unbearable.  The fact that people I know think she is hot only adds to this aggravation.  And now that you think I am crazy (and I am.)...

**In Which Hermione Dies******

**Chapter 1**

**The Traitor**

~*~

In which Ginny is normal (but a little unhinged), Draco's a sweetie (but not really), Ron's a prat (as usual), Harry's angry (though he'll tell you otherwise) and Hermione dies (as the title says).

~*~

            "There is no way, no way at all, that I will stand by and let you do this to me!" my brother, Ron, raved.  I stared at him, brows furrowed, the skin on my face resembling a juicy apple more than anything else.  His face was quite the same shade as mine though, I suspect, but I didn't really give a damn about that at the moment.  Whether or not he was my brother I was still going to yell at him until he went deaf.  Never got the chance though...

            "He's right Ginny!" Harry Potter, the ever so wonderful Boy Wonder added, sticking his freakishly small nose into my brother and I's business.  But I suppose he was involved too, now that I think about it, but still!  It was bad enough to be yelled at by my own blood, but by the Boy Who Lived as well?  My eyesight was beginning to tint towards the red end of the spectrum.  "There is no way you can do what you are doing!  You are tainting the house!"

            "Not only that!" Ron exploded.  "She's tainting our family name!  Our cause!"  He turned his flapping, flailing arms from Harry to me.  "Don't you care about the DA anymore, Ginny?  Don't you give a damn that your actions will have consequences for them as well!"

            "He's right!" Harry half shouted, thankfully not flapping his arms.  I suppose I would have to give him Chocolate Frog points for that one.  It is much easier to take and angry person serious when he or she does not resemble a big, ugly, reddish bird.  "How could you do this to the DA?  You do realize that we can never trust you again, don't you?  That we can never trust you in full confidence because _he_ might get the information as well?"  He was shaking his fist now.  Ok, perhaps the points will be revoked and he will be classified as being on the same level as my brother.  It sort of makes sense though.  In a twisted way really.  "You might as well resign!"

            Now, you might be wondering just why it is exactly that I am standing here, being ranted and raved at as though I am about to bring about the apocalypse to all that is good.  Well, it's rather simple really and it can be narrowed down to a single name: Hermione.  That is right; the stupid, all knowing know-it-all is behind the rampage of the male members of the Dream Team.  Why?  Because the bloody bint told them about my relationship with Draco.  My once _secret_ relationship with Draco.  But I suppose you can tell, with the helpful exclamations of the two boys, that it is no longer as secret as I would have liked it to be.  

            You see, I was having a nice snogging session with my lovely blonde, (and he is mine by the way, so no funny ideas on your part, if you don't mind.) in our usual classroom.  We had planned it out the day before.  After supper we would sneak out of our Common Rooms and go to the third floor on the east side of the school.  We usually did this so I wasn't exactly worried.  What we did was what varied and I could never quite predetermine what would go on once the door closed.  

            Sometimes we would just sit there quietly, enjoying the other's company while doing mundane tasks such as homework.  Other times we couldn't keep our hands off each other.  I liked those times.  Every now and then we would fight, but the makeup sessions were always wonderful, so I took those times with a grain or two of salt.  A few times we even shared Bertty Botts and I don't think I have ever laughed quite that hard.  Well, at least, not in the presence of my Draco.  

            But what we did didn't really matter that much really, well it did in a way.  If we hadn't been in that room snogging each other senseless on that average day, Hermione never would have walked in and seen us.  Hermione never would have let out that annoying little gasp of hers when she is surprised, startling Draco and making him hit his head as he fell off of me and onto the floor.  Hermione never would have turned tail and ran away, her Head Girl prestige leaving her as quickly as a condemned man, or woman for that matter, tries to run from a dementor.  Hermione never would have scurried through the portrait hole and, panting all the while, sobbed to Harry and Ron about what she had seen that had made her so upset.  Hermione wouldn't have ruined my life.  Hermione would not have needed to be killed.

            "Then I will!" I finally exploded, fed up with the abuse.  I really was.  I am not the kind of person to stand back and let people take shots at me.  Especially when they are related to me, or might as well be related to me, as is Harry's case.

            They stopped their screaming and their flailing and their fist shaking.  They stopped it all and stood there, staring at me like retarded animals look at an oncoming Knight Bus.  They just stared, and it was rather creepy.  I think I would have preferred the flailing, but I couldn't turn back.

            "I will resign if it is what you two truly want," I continued, lowering my voice just a touch so as not to attract any more attention, but I don't think that that really would have mattered anymore.  The two of them had already attracted ever single soul who was in the two mile range of their voices, including the Giant Squid, who was staring at me with what seemed to be squidish anticipation.  "Because I don't want to have to be forced to put up with your bull shit ever single bloody time you think you have something important to say that the All Mighty Ferret can't hear.  He is not what you think he is and I will not stand to have you slander him any more than you already do.  I will have no part in it."

            "He's hexed you!  I know it!" Ron shrieked, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking them.  Hard.

            _I stared at him, lowering my head so I was looking up at him through my hair.  I let out a small growl, causing my brother to start slightly.  Then, before he could say or do anything of use, I attacked, fists flying.  He was on the ground in an instant and I began to punch and kick, screaming that Draco was a good person and Ron was a poohead for not believing me.  For not believing that I would never date a Death Eater, and since Draco wasn't one he was alright for me to date._

            I shook my head, like I would ever have the guts to do that.  I don't think I have ever caused too much physical harm to my brothers, even after they ripped Jacqueline's head off.  My poor doll was never the same after the Twins got through with her.  Oh well.  Back to the matter at hand though.

            "Yes Ron," I sneered at him.  "Yes, that is exactly what he did, and you can just believe it if it makes things easier for you to comprehend in that small brain of yours."  I glared.  "Draco, being the all mightily Death Eater that he is, (He's the next in line to replace the Master's right hand man.  Can you believe it?  And he's only seventeen!) placed a hex on me to make me fall in love with him.  Why you might ask?  Well because in his twisted, Slytherin mind he devised a plot that the best way to get to the Dream Team and bring them down was to date the youngest Weasley.  Isn't it ingenious?  I think so, which is probably proof to you that I have been hexed."

            "I knew it!" Ron exclaimed.  Harry hit him.  Perhaps he wasn't as far gone as my brother as I thought.  

            "Now, if you will excuse me."  I nodded my head at them, as well as our audience.  The squid waved a tentacle at me.  "I have some plotting of my own to do.  If I were you, Ronnikins, I would keep an eye on my little girlfriend."  And with that said I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the two rampagers to stand there, amongst the audience, trying to figure out just what my implications were.

~*~

            You know, I really have no idea how I ended up dating a Weasley.  I really don't.  I mean, I hated her family (still do in fact) and for quite some time I hated her as well.  Well, you would hate someone too if they sent flying snot after you.  I don't know anyone who wouldn't hold a grudge for that one.  But somehow I fell for her.  Not very hard at first, it was more like gliding gently down a pit then falling flat on my face on the ground.  If that makes any sense.

            It was at the end on my sixth year when I noticed her, or sort of noticed her.  She had been waiting for the Hogwarts Express and the wind caught in her hair and blew it away from her face.  A face I had never noticed before.  Or it could have been that I had never allowed myself to notice it.  And I continued to refuse to acknowledge it all through that summer, using handy self-inflicted punishment whenever I thought of that face and its windblown hair.  When I got back to school it all changed though.

            I could no longer deny that I found her attractive, and me, being who I am: the Slytherin Bad Boy, decided that I would get the attractive girl because I sure as hell didn't want any other wanker going out with her.  Not exactly the most honorable start, but that's how it was.  I convinced myself that the only reason I found her attractive was hormones and I set about trying to capture the fiery red head.  I am still astonished that I somehow managed to get her attention, not to mention her affections.

            I had begun to send letters, presents and other such things to her during the first few weeks of school.  What I sent was ridiculous.  Here's a little tidbit if you would like.  I had been planning to send her a rose, a rose that would symbolize what I felt for her.  But for the life of me I couldn't remember the meanings of the colors so I had to ask for help.

            Walking over to the door to my Head Boy room, I pulled it open to the Common Room bellow.  Sticking my head out of my sanctuary, like one of those orange fish, I called out to my house mates: "What's the rose color that means lust?"

            It was Blaise Zabini who responded: "Just send a red rose; it's basically the same thing."  

            So I did.

            I don't really feel like going through the gruesome details of how it all came to be, but somehow (and I really have no idea how) I bagged Ginny Weasley.  And then to add to the amazement of it all, I fell for her, in the way I mentioned above.  Somehow she changed me.  I swear to Merlin it was that damned smile of hers, but no matter, I still fell for her and became less like my father than I ever imagined possible.  Not that that really matters really.  It would have happened.  Eventually.  Far away in the future.  But it would have!  She only managed to make it happen before I defiled my lovely skin.  

            But now everything that I have come to appreciate over these past few months is coming apart.  And it's all that stupid Mudblood's fault.  The stupid chipmunk girl that should really consider taking her own life before someone has to do it for her.  But no, that would be _inconvenient_, wouldn't it?  I suppose it would be much too much to ask for.  The stupid bint would never end her own existence to convenience others.  Oh well.

            I made my way into the library.  I knew she would be in there.  She always goes in there when something is bothering her.  She claims that it is the books that do it.  Though as to how books can calm someone I haven't the foggiest.  I have always thought it would be something the Stupid Mudblood would say.  Perhaps more of her had rubbed off on my Ginny than I initially thought.  Perhaps she will have to be sacrificed as well, just to make sure that nothing of the chipmunk ever lives on...

            I turned the corner and my eyes fell on her, my lovely red head, and all thoughts of elimination, no matter how righteous they were, dropped away from my mind.  There was, and is, no way that I would be able to kill that Weasley.  Ever.  Even if she threatened me with my life, though as to why that would happen I have no clue.  None at all.  Oh well.

~*~

            "You know," a silky voice whispered in my ear about half an hour later.  I was seated in the back of the library, attempting to do my oh-so-wonderful homework.  It seemed that plan had just burned up in reentry.  "That was a pretty devious plan you thought up.  I feel slightly putout that I didn't think of that one on my own.  It had so much potential."

            "Shut up Malfoy," I hissed, as the owner of the voice carefully pulled my long, red hair away from my neck and placed a kiss under my ear.  

            "And if I say no?" he drawled, trailing his finger down my back, making me shiver despite the two layers I was wearing.  I knew he would be smirking.  

            "Then I would just have to hit something that you truly don't want to be hit," I hissed, not quite feeling the need to contain my irritation today.  It wasn't at him though, it was more the residual effects of the Dream Team and their unending stupidity.

            "Of course you would," he responded with the same drawl he always had, then placed his scrumptious rear end onto the seat next to mine.  It was only then that I turned to look at him to see that grin of his pulling on his lips.  It had been that grin that had done me in when this all started.  The grin that could so easily be coaxed into that smile of his, though ever so rare it might be, that could make me melt into a pile of useless Weasley.  And the worst part about that smile was that he knew its effects and loved to use it to stimulate them.

            I glared back down at my text book, glaring down on it as though it held the exact reason Hermione had done what she had done.  The exact reason Hermione had tried to ruin what I had.  Because in all reality, that was exactly what was happening: it was all falling apart.  The Slytherins, who had already had a large bias against Draco after the incident where he had slandered his father's name and reputation, were now even more against him than before.  I have always worried about what those horrible people would do to my Draco if they ever found out that he was going out with a Gryffindor, and a Weasley to boot.  Apparently it was to completely extradite him from their world, to shun him.  He said he didn't mind, especially since he had his own room for being Head Boy, but I knew he did.  

            Draco is the kind of person who needs constant reassurance in his actions, even though he would never ever admit this to anyone, not even to himself.  Now with his father gone and his realization about what the man truly was, and with his house against him, along with the rest of the school, I knew that it was bothering him quite a bit more than he was letting me see.  But he was Draco Malfoy after all.  He did not want to show weakness, ever, to anybody.  Not even to me.  No, especially not to me.

            "I hate her so much," I finally hissed, after the silence had dragged on for a good five minutes.  Five minutes, of which the blonde had stared at me, playing with my long hair.  It was one of his favorite pastimes, or so he frequently said.  Playing with my hair seemed to sooth him in a way and so I never complained, even though I hate when people touch it.  Do you see what I will do for him?  "I just can't get over it."

            "Then don't," he said with that drawl of his, and I looked at him in question, frowning all the while.  "Seek revenge Weasley.  Kill her off and it will all get better."

            My mouth fell open.  "Draco!" I gasped, completely missing the slight twitch of his lips.  The twitch that tells me when he is joking, when he is being sarcastic.  But I did miss it and for a time I thought that he seriously wanted me to consider killing my brother's girlfriend.  Not that I hadn't considered it myself, but to hear my treacherous thoughts from someone else?  It was just wrong.

            And I kept right along that train of thought until his laughter greeted my ears.  The softened yet still slightly cruel laughter that he seemed to have created just for me.  It's odd how a laugh can represent so much, express so much about a situation.  I glared at him and whacked him with the back of my hand.

            "Not funny," I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

            "Oh, but it is," he drawled, grinning at me lazily.  "I think it is the most hilarious thing I have ever come up with."

            "You're pathetic," I muttered, dropping my eyes back to my books.  I could sense him moving closer to me, his hand traveling from my hair to the back of my neck.

            "Why, but that is why you like me so, Ginny dear," he whispered into my ear causing me to shiver once more and him to smirk in turn.  I don't even have to look at him anymore to tell when he is smirking.  It's all instinct now I suppose you could call it.  

            "Whatever you say, ferret boy," I drawled in return, refusing to turn my head and meet his eyes.  It wasn't that I didn't want to look into those lovely eyes, it was just that sometimes it was fun to play bitch.  A little perverse pleasure of mine.  Not that he doesn't have any of his own.

            And now to demonstrate this point, he took his other hand and turned my face to look at him.  I didn't even get the chance to blink before he brought his lips crushing down on mine.  And it wasn't another second before I was responding, running my hands through his neatly placed hair, messing it up.  I always love to do that.  It makes him seem more human.

            But just as Draco began to pull me tighter to him, a voice cut through my mind and I was forced to pull away.  The blonde looked at me ruefully, opening his mouth to say something nasty I suspect, but I put a finger to his lips and hissed: shhh.  The voice was coming from behind the bookshelf in front of us.

            "I don't see what her big deal is," the voice I had come to hate stated and I glared in its general direction.  I felt Draco's hands, which were still in place on my waist, grip me a little tighter, almost as if he thought I would actually try what he had suggested.  "It would have gotten out eventually.  I didn't mean to make it happen."

            "Mummy always used to tell me that nothing happens without a reason," another voice added.  It was Luna's, the traitor.  It seemed that one of my best friends had converted to the side of evil.  Well, I certainly wasn't going to stand for it.

            _Wrenching myself from my boyfriend's grasp, I leapt over the table, not even bothering to pull my wand out of my pocket.  I didn't need it.  Instead, I launched myself at the book shelf, throwing my entire weight against it.  It did as I intended and began to teeter over.  A swift side kick aided gravity and it was soon falling, falling, falling, showering books on the two individuals on the other side.  They let out screams of terror as they were effectively squished by books and book shelving.  I grinned._

            Then I shook my head.  Like I would ever have the strength to pull that one off.  But it seemed I had come up with my first scenario in which Hermione dies.  Luna was just a bonus I suppose.

~*~

A/N: Well, that was all odd, now wasn't it??  If you want to hear updates on my stories, art, or "sanity", then please check out my LiveJournal.  You can find the URL in my bio.  Feel free to add me if you'd like.  So, is this story smash or trash??


	2. Howler Monkey Style

Title: In Which Hermione Dies

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: Well, I must say that I was more than a little disappointed with a few of the responses to this story. I would just like to ask you this: since when do I write the characters "in character"? Never. So why, all of a sudden does my writing them OOC warrant complaint? I mean sure, the characters were a little more insane than usual in this story, but why do I suddenly have to change them? I write for myself and no one else, which is probably why this chapter, as well as the 14 other finished chapters/stories have sat unedited in my folder for so long. The only reason I put my stories up is so that people who have similar interests as me can find some entertainment in them as well. I do not need to be told to change my characters. Suggestions are good, but when I have people demanding for me to do so I get a little mad. So yes, I suppose all I am trying to say is that I really don't give a bloody damn if you don't like how I write the HP characters. I enjoy them and if you don't then you can go off and try and find yourself some "canon fan fiction" if there is such a thing in this fandom anymore. For those of you who supported me with this story I hug you until you can't breathe. :p

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**I Which Hermione Dies  
**

**Chapter 2**

**Howler Monkey Style**

-o-

I hadn't seen Ginny all day, which wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence, but it still made me a little wary. I think it has been the looks that people have been giving me all day that is putting me on edge. The incredulous, suspicious looks one hosts after hearing a juicy piece of gossip, wondering if it could be true. And I suspect the gossip they have heard about me and Ginny must be some of the juicier gossip they have heard all year.

If I were them I would probably be in there as well, speculating as to whether a Weasley and a Malfoy really could get along. But then, I am a Malfoy and Malfoys do not gossip. Ever. But I suppose I can still understand where they are coming from, even if I don't like it in the slightest.

I have never really been one for shying away from attention when it is warranted, but this was all downright insulting and prying. I mean, what does it really matter to them if I am going out with a Weasley? Well, I suppose it might disturb the foundations of their worlds, for certainly they all believed that it was a universal constant for Malfoys and Weasleys to always be at ends with each other. I always believed it myself. But then, I suppose they are correct in saying that nothing is set in stone. But I've never really understood that saying for stone erodes over time, doesn't it? So then wouldn't whatever you had written in the stone erode as well? Not that I really care, but still.

I sat alone at the Slytherin table, taking to glaring at any who dared to sit near me or even look at me. What can I say? After an entire day of putting up with people's gawking who wouldn't be a little putout when they had to contend with it while eating? Unfortunately though, their staring seemed to have chased off my appetite, and I am suspecting that that is what happened to Ginny as well, for she is no where to be seen in the room.

So, grabbing a roll off of my plate, I stood up, sending a universal glare around once more, and made my way out the door. I knew where she would be: with the books in the library. The halls on the way there were void of people and it was rather nice not have them staring at me. I really hate it when people stare at me when I don't want them to. Especially when I can't scare them off.

I entered the library and made my way to the back. There she was, her lovely hair glinting in the fire light. I found myself grinning slightly as I went to sit bedside her. She was scratching furiously with her quill at a piece of parchment. I almost winced for it.

Yet as I sat there she continued to scratch at it, not paying me the least bit of attention, the face of a certain bushy haired Mudblood materializing on the page. I felt rather ignored, so I moved a bit closer and caught at her long hair. I have always loved to touch it. There is just something so entirely soft and warm about it that my fingers just itch to feel it. And I am never one to deny myself what I want.

"Ginny dear," I finally said softly, getting bored of the silence. "What are you doing exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked me, not even looking up to speak to me. "I'm doodling Hermione's death."

I paused for a moment. I had just been joking when I suggested she should kill her. The last thing I need is for her to be locked up in Azkaban along with a horde of sex-craved criminals. Just the thought of it has me shuddering in disgust. Not to mention that my father is in there as well, but I don't want to get into that.

"You know," I said slowly, my fingers moving to get a hold of more hair. "They call that incriminating evidence."

"I'm not going to keep it," she assured me. Her tongue was sticking out slightly now as she titled her head and continued to scratch away. It was making it a trifle hard to think, so I turned my attention away from her mouth and instead towards her hands where she was clutching one of her ratty quills.

That is the one thing that she will never accept from me: new quills. She always insists that the ones she has work just fine and that she doesn't need to be wasteful. I could never understand that either. To me they are just plain ugly. But my redhead doesn't seem to see the horrendous colors or the way the feathers stick in odd and unnatural directions.

"No. Of course you're not," I said reasonably. "You're just going to put it in the book with all your other drawings, publish it, and sell it. You'll make hundreds of galleons. And with that money you will buy a machete and hack her to death."

"You're being silly," Ginny said, shaking her head. For an instant I felt relief flood through me. My girlfriend isn't going homicidal. "I already have enough pocket money to get one of those." Perhaps I was a mite presumptuous. "No, I want something bigger. Like one of those Muggle bombs. What are they called? Nucleolus? Newton...?"

"Nuclear?" I offered. And don't look at me like that. It was part of my father's lessons: to learn about Muggle weapons in case one ever tried to use them against me. Those creatures sure do have some rather barbaric methods of killing one another off. Me, I prefer a good Avada over any of the crap that they have come up with. Much less to clean up afterwards. Why am I saying this?

"That's it," she replied rather cheerfully. It was scary to think a bomb can make her cheerful. "I want a nuclear bomb. She'll never walk away from that."

"Nor will anyone else..." I muttered.

It was at this time that she finally turned away from her parchment, even if it was just to hit me with her ugly quill. I think I will burn them all one of these days. She glared at me, and I couldn't help but smirk back.

"What?" I asked, my smirk trying to pull itself into something more. "It's true. No one else will either."

"Well, I suppose they will just have to be sacrificed for the greater good," she said as though it was the most logical explanation in the world.

"Of course," I said with a nod.

By this time the library had begun to fill up with students annoyed with their day's homework. That always happens in this place. It's as if no one in the school can come up with original places to do their work. I looked around, watching as younger students filled the empty seats of the tables around us. It seemed like it was going to be a full house today. And they were all staring. I sensed Ginny shifting her things back into her bag. I looked at her.

"I don't want to be in here anymore," she muttered, her face going slightly red. I had never liked the way she had blushed before. It was a symbol of all that was Weasley. But then after I fell for her it became on of the things about her that I found the most attractive. Then something occurred to me: were these people's stares really making her that uncomfortable? Apparently they were.

"Are you sure you don't just want to use that bomb to get rid of them all?" I asked, smirking wider at her. She got a little redder, but not from embarrassment this time. "Hermione's just a front, isn't she?"

"No," Ginny replied with a pouty voice. She stood up, swinging her bag onto her finely shaped shoulders. "They are just a bonus." She glanced around and people quickly turned their heads, pretending not to be watching us. "A very large bonus."

With a slight snort I offered her my arm. She stared at it for a moment then accepted it. Well, if everyone seems to suspect us now, why bother hiding it all? Why go through the trouble of putting up a front they will see through anyways? We walked out of the library, people staring at us the entire time. I was glaring and Ginny was blushing like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps I will have to kill them all for her. Yes, I think that just might be what I have to do. I can't let them all see that cute blush of hers.

-o-

I really hate when people stare at me. I really do. It's just something that annoys me to death. I can never know what the staring people are thinking about me, what they are plotting. If I had it my way anyone who stared at me would have their eyes gorged out. I really do not know where all these violent thoughts are coming from lately. I think it's the stress of our relationship coming out.

You know, I had about twenty girls, all from different years, come up to me today, giggling like there was no tomorrow. They all wanted to know if Draco was as good in the sac as the rumors said. I promptly threatened them with "unfortunate" accidents if they ever so much as thought about such things again. No, I did not have to play bitch today. I am one.

But seriously, I am not going to tell them how good Draco really is. Especially if they just come up to me, giggling as if it was a big joke. Sometimes people astound me with their stupidity. Ahg, this is all Hermione's fault.

It was at that moment, when we were walking out of the library, that my stomach decided to grumble.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked me, my hand still tucked into his arm. I looked up at him to see him looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

"No," I replied. My stomach once again decided to make its presence known causing Draco to smirk. Traitor.

"And why weren't you in the Great Hall eating like you should have been if you were hungry?" he asked, the smirk still on his face. He knew damn well why I wasn't in there. "You know, starving yourself will do your figure no good." He smirked further then. "You just wouldn't be the same without those curves."

I glared up at him, whacking him with my free hand. "You are such an ass sometimes, Draco," I hissed, my hand drifting to my hips. They really aren't that big. But there's never anything I can really do about them. Some people get the fat in their chest or their stomachs. I get them in my hips. Sometimes the world just isn't fair.

"Ah," he replied solemnly, releasing my hand and letting his arm snake around my waist. "But then it makes one wonder as to why you put up with me at all."

"Good point," I sighed, leaning into his side. "I must be a complete loony."

"Only explanation," he nodded, leading me down the hall. It didn't take me very long to realize that we were going down to the kitchens. I didn't comment though, and remained content with feeling him move beside me.

When we entered the kitchens we found it empty. This place always creeps me out when it's like this and I'm by myself. I don't know why, but I can always imagine something crawling out of the ovens and eating me. I know it's irrational, but there you go. We scrounged up some food and sat ourselves down at the end of one of the tables.

"And you were talking about me starving myself?" I scoffed, watching as my lovely blond proceeded to gobble down all of the food he had piled onto his plate. He looked up and grinned at me with that grin that is so close to being his smile. I felt myself beginning to melt, but managed to stop myself before it got too far.

"Hey, I have to keep my curves too," he replied with his grin, then turned back to his food. I rolled my eyes. That boy has no curves, he's all angles. Well, not all I suppose, since his head is rather round, but then that chin of his isn't exactly what one could call curvy. Pointy yes, curvy no.

We didn't have much to say to each other after this and I found that the silence we slipped into was rather comfortable. Like an old glove really, if that makes any sense? We didn't find a reason to use our voices until we were back out in the hall, hand in hand, making our way towards our dormitories.

"So, I take it the rumors are true then," a voice sounded from behind us. We both stopped. I glanced at Draco with a touch of worry but all he could offer was a slight smile which seemed more like a grimace to tell you the truth. Well, you would be a touch worried too if you had to face the person who was behind us.

"Professor," Draco greeted, turning both of us around to face the Potions Master. Usually Snape doesn't bother me, but who knows how our now no longer secret relationship will change all that. And he is looking rather menacing at the moment.

"I had heard what the students have been saying," Snape said slowly, raising an eyebrow as he said it. "But I refused to believe it. A Malfoy with a Weasley." He turned his black eyes to me then and I felt Draco's hand grip mine a touch harder. There was something altogether insulting about his stare. Something that was altogether wrong about it. I think in that moment I knew what it felt like to be Harry.

_Tearing my hand away from my Draco's elegant one, I leapt at Snape, howler monkey style. I pulled at his greasy hair and bit at his hooked nose. I did everything but scratch his eyes out for looking at me like some insignificant creature. I was his pupil, not some piece of trash going out with his prized student! He must pay the price for his insolence._

Well, that was definitely an interesting train of thought. I resisted the urge to shake my head. Like I would ever be able to attack Snape. Or bite his nose. That would just be nasty. No, I will save that attack for Hermione. Yes, a howler monkey style death for the bushy haired chipmunk girl. Animal versus animal. And of course I would win and come out alive, while she would "unfortunately" come out dead... Yet another plan I suppose.

I turned my attention back to the professor's insulting look just in time to see him begin to smirk. The look washed away to be replaced by something entirely different. Something that almost seemed to hold amusement. Or even approval? But I think even that would be too much, especially for Snape.

"It must be historic," he said, his lips pulling into a slight smirk. Then, with one final look at Draco, he turned on his heel and strode away, his cloak billowing after him. I have always thought that he must practices that move.

"Well that was..." I trailed off, staring after the Potions Master as he made his way around a corner and disappeared from sight.

"Different," Draco offered, my hand still in his. Then we turned and looked at each other, each mirroring each other's astonishment. Who would have thought that after all we went through today, it would end with Snape's approval?

-o-

As I sat in bed a few hours later, I still couldn't get the last look Snape gave me out of my head. It was just downright creepy that Snape would take an interest in our relationship. Let alone refer to it as being "historic". It was just wrong. So much so that I couldn't even distract myself away from it with my book. And it was an interesting one too, filled with all sorts of curses and counter curses of the most unique nature.

I let out a rather large sigh and sunk deeper under my covers, determined to get it all out of my head. All the staring eyes and whispered words. And it probably would have worked too, if it hadn't been for my bedroom door slamming open, revealing my girlfriend. No, I probably could have managed it if she hadn't launched herself at me, crying her heart out.

Damn it all.

-o-

A/N: Well yes, I don't know when I am going to get the next chapter out. I am such a lazy bum and haven't edited anything for a while. Like this chapter, I finished writing it about eight months ago and just decided to edit it. Oh well. There are going to be two chapters after this one, so perhaps I will get them out before I turn the number which we do not speak of... Lol.

Many thanks to: **Toreen**, **storm079**(Are you still around?)**, meena2, StAlKaHoLiC**(Well, I think the 5th book has made her a bit less perfect, but I know what you mean)**, Hplova4eva**(Have you gone away as well?)**, sabacat, Nerwen Faelvirin, Lallie**(And what ever happened to that idea? WRITE!)**, bigreader**(Pickles?)**, Goddess**(Giant Squid eh... lol)**, thundergoddess**(Turns on Draco? No, that sounds like a Lallie plot to me...)**, Queen of the Night, Misobel**(No problem at all)**, MokteBell**(What ever gave you that idea?)**, ToOtHpIcK, Isadora, Lady Moofin, Yazethet, storm** and **Angie.**


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